


The Hero Of This Story

by neapeaikea



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Future Fic, Getting Back Together, M/M, Minor Canonical Character(s), Werewolf Sheriff Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 17:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14313207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neapeaikea/pseuds/neapeaikea
Summary: The sheriff is turned into a werewolf and in the aftermath, Stiles has to handle his rekindled feelings for Derek.





	The Hero Of This Story

**Author's Note:**

> Only sort of follows canon. I'm not quite sure at what point it diverges, but Derek is still an Alpha, as is Scott. Maybe everything that happened on the show happened in this 'verse too, except for Stiles joining the FBI, and Derek leaving Beacon Hills. It's a bit unclear, but ultimately not that important to the story. Hopefully that doesn't matter for your reading enjoyment! Feedback is lovingly drooled on!
> 
> A more self-indulgent and self-centred A/N can be find below the fic.

Having a werewolf for a dad sucks. 

It’s not that Stiles’ dad sucks at being a werewolf, he’s actually getting quite good at it. It was touch and go there at first, when he refused his new supernatural status and vehemently denied having any heightened senses. But it’s been nearly a year now, and not only does he embrace his sensitive nose and ears, but he’s spent hours, if not days, honing them into something sharper than the shift first granted him. 

“Is he any good?” Stiles asked Derek a few months into having a lupine-inclined father.

Derek’s frown actually lessened instead of deepened, and he looked out at the woods where John was tracking Scott. “He’s been in law enforcement for years. He knows how to follow leads and when to take a step back. It’s natural to him.”

“Supernatural, you mean.” Stiles said, all too proud of the joke. 

But Derek was right, and John now uses his built-in lie detector with the suspects that crosses his path at the sheriff’s station, and the heightened hearing and smelling comes in good use when he and his colleagues are involved in a foot pursuit, or search a property for contraband. 

Unfortunately, this is also why having a werewolf for a dad sucks. 

Stiles doesn’t use drugs, or run from crime scenes (these days), but he apparently doesn’t tell his dad the truth often enough. Stiles used to be able to delude himself into thinking his dad bought all the half-truths and blatant lies, but now he knows there’s simply no way that John believes him when he says he’s going to the movies with a friend, or that he’s not spending all night researching gargoyles. 

“I really think I should move out.” Stiles says one morning as he opens his bedroom door the exact moment his dad is passing by in the hallway, and it’s impossible to miss the quick sniff and full-body shudder his dad suffers through.

“If that’s what you want.” John says gruffly, like always when he has emotions he can’t handle.

Stiles glares at his dad as he keeps walking down the hall, like he’s the affronted one here. He takes a shower and works up a spiel in his head, all about how Stiles is the one whose privacy is being compromised, how he’s never felt more like a child in his life, with all his actions and feelings carefully monitored whenever they’re at home at the same time. 

He joins his dad downstairs for some breakfast, and John says over his coffee, “You moving back to San Fran?”

Stiles slams his spoon down into his cereal and spills some over the side of the bowl, “What?”

“You only came back ‘cos I was turned.”

“I was here when you were turned.” Stiles points out. In fact, Stiles is the reason John is a werewolf. It was one hundred per cent Stiles’ doing. And Derek’s. 

“It was only to visit. You stayed,” John swallows, “to help.”

Stiles gets it suddenly. Why his dad is pretending he’s not upset. Because Stiles went to San Francisco nearly four years ago, and might’ve still been there if John hadn’t been bitten, if Stiles hadn’t felt an overwhelming sense of worry and guilt. 

“I stayed because there was no way I was letting my dad become a _werewolf sheriff_ on his own.”

John nods slightly, listening. 

Stiles clears his throat, “But I can’t be afraid to touch my dick in my own home.”

“Oh, for…” John groans. 

Glad the conversation is back on somewhat less shaky ground, Stiles says, “I’m not going back. It was cool to live in the big city, but you’re here, almost everyone I care about is here, and I can do my job from here. But I’m twenty-five and I can’t live with my dad, scared of masturbating ‘cos it will hurt his precious nose!”

“Please, stop talking.” John begs.

Stiles grins, going back to his cereal. When his dad gets up to get ready for work he touches Stiles’ shoulder, something he does a lot more of these days, and says, “I’ll keep an ear out for apartments.”

**

While Stiles might’ve used self-loving as his primary reason for moving out, it’s something else that’s begun to truly bother him. 

Derek.

They were a couple before Stiles moved to San Francisco. Their breakup was part of the reason that Stiles got the hell out of Beacon Hills. But you’re never truly over a guy like Derek, or a connection like they had, and over the past year with Derek helping his dad contain and control his wolf, Stiles’ feelings for Derek have become confused and even more complex.

Or maybe it’s the opposite. Maybe he’s not confused at all, and maybe they’re not complex. Maybe it’s plain as day how he feels. But there are only so many times his dad can mention smelling Derek on him before Stiles freaks the fuck out.

At first it was cool, John happy that he’d been able to pick up a scent, and it was a positive development that Stiles and Derek could spend real time together. But lately John’s comments have become inquisitive and insinuating, and yeah, Stiles and Derek have been spending time together completely unrelated to John’s attendance at Hale’s School of Werewolfiness (“never say that again, Stiles”) and Stiles just… he can’t. He can’t deal with his dad actually seeming a bit hopeful he’ll get to have his Alpha as his son-in-law. 

It’s all so messed up.

When Stiles and Derek began dating, Stiles was nineteen and taking a year to figure out what he was doing with his life, if he was going to stay involved in the supernatural, or run for the hills. His dad was not impressed with his choice in partner, and Derek was forced to suffer through many awkward dinners and barbecues. 

After their messy breakup, Derek stayed in Beacon Hills, and somehow gained John’s friendship and trust. Stiles likes to think they bonded over missing him, spending long nights talking about his awesome jokes and unique set of cooking skills. It’s more likely that without Stiles around they were able to work better together when it came to keeping Beacon Hills free(-ish) of things that go bump in the night. 

Not that John accepted Derek as his Alpha at first, far from it. He raised hell and said more than one hurtful comment about not taking orders from a kid who’d spent most of his life not knowing what the hell he was doing. The guilt Stiles felt about the whole situation only doubled when he saw Derek slink away with slumped shoulders.

**

“I told Dad I’m moving out.” Stiles says, fiddling with a straw of grass.

Derek only makes an inquiring noise first, but follows it with, “Why?”

“Never meant it to be a permanent arrangement.”

Derek doesn’t say anything at first, but Stiles has found in the past year that if he just waits that one tiny bit longer than he instinctually wants to, Derek will usually say something. It’s exhilarating, in a way it really shouldn’t be. Back when they were together, Derek still had so many problems using his words, and Stiles didn’t have an ounce of patience in him. After a year together, their miscommunication was beyond belief, and Stiles was too young and immature to deal with it.

“Yeah, I get that.” Derek says, eventually. “It’ll be good for you to have a place of your own.”

They’re at the park, for no real reason. Derek had called Stiles to see if he wanted to hang out, and Stiles had said yes. There’s a playground not too far away, but they’ve spent the past minutes watching a group of friends kick a soccer ball around. 

“I’m thinking living room, bedroom, office. You know, for my research.” Stiles glances at Derek out of the corner of his eye.

Derek scratches his neck, “Yeah.”

Stiles wants to take Derek’s hand, wants to tell him that maybe one day he’ll have his research at Derek’s place again, at their place. In his late teens Stiles had almost as many notes and books at Derek’s loft as at his home. But this thing between them is still too fragile, and too uncertain. Derek’s been clear that he wants Stiles. It’s a heady feeling, knowing someone that strong and powerful will follow your wishes. But the way things ended between them last time, Stiles doesn’t know if he can forget that. Besides, Derek has yet to actually say anything to him about it. Derek still can’t fucking tell Stiles what he’s fucking feeling, and it infuriates him.

“Did I tell you dad asked me more about Alphas the other day?” Stiles asks.

“Oh?” Derek asks. He’s mostly over John freaking out about having him for an Alpha, but it’s painfully clear he wants John’s approval. Theirs is a weird dynamic, where in one situation Derek is the boss, and in another, John is. Derek’s not an official sheriff’s deputy, but he’s on the payroll as an investigation consultant, and helps out with non-supernatural cases too when needed.

“He’s reading up on shit. Wanted to know about True Alphas, but also about ceremonial stuff, how to address an Alpha, things like that. I could tell he was relieved you don’t stand too much on tradition.”

Derek shrugs, “Never really learned it.”

Stiles squeezes Derek’s hand for a brief moment. “He’s lucky to have you. I don’t think he’ll ever tell you, but in all this, you have to know that he’s happy it was you. I am too.”

Derek brings his hand to his chest, huffs out a “yeah”, and looks at the kids playing soccer. 

Desperate to make the moment less tense, Stiles comes up with, “Imagine if he’d been stuck with Scott. He’d have a breakdown.”

Derek doesn’t say anything, but Stiles sees the tiny smile playing on his lips and counts it as a win.

**

“You’re really making me do this.” Melissa says.

“Yep.” Stiles smiles wide.

“This is so stupid.” Melissa still gives her perfume and scarf to Stiles, who sprays some on himself and makes a face.

They’re at the edge of the preserve, waiting for Derek’s signal. They are tonight’s tracking lesson for John, Scott and Liam, the goal being to find Melissa, and Stiles is in charge of placing out decoys. Scott attends the lessons sometimes, when he’s bored or thinks it’s good for pack bonding. But John and Liam still need the practice, and Derek’s a surprisingly good teacher these days.

Stiles meets up with Derek after he’s placed items of clothing in five different locations, the two of them sitting on a log on the other side of the clearing from where the Hale house once stood. It’s where they usually sit together while the others track, play tag or wrestle with each other. The house and the tunnels were brought down years ago, thankfully, but Derek still feels connected to the site and Stiles is just glad it’s a healthier connection than it once was. 

“You reek.” Derek wrinkles his nose.

“You say the sweetest things.” Stiles bats his eyelashes, deciding to treat the accidental flirting like it’s something they always do.

Derek rolls his eyes.

“I’ve got ten bucks that says my old man will have them beat.” Stiles proclaims. 

“I’m not taking that action.” Derek says.

Stiles feels the guilt and worry creep back up, “You really think he’s that good?”

“He has to learn to trust his senses. He relies too heavily on his detective skills.” Derek says, bringing up what made John finally accept his new skill set, his work. “That’s great on the job, but as a werewolf he has to trust his scent and sight first. Other wolves aren’t gonna drop a matchbox from their motel at a bank robbery, or leave a money trail. They’re gonna come at us here, in the dark, and use speed and strength to kill us. He needs to learn to think like a wolf.”

Stiles nods, because he knows this. John has made strides of progress since accepting the fact that he’s a werewolf, but he’s still much better at being a human taking advantage of certain qualities, than being an actual werewolf, shifted and wild. 

Stiles laughs into the quiet night, “Man, I remember the first time he shifted.”

Derek frowns at Stiles, “You were both terrified.”

“I know, it was hilarious.”

“This is some interesting history revision going on here.” Derek muses.

It was in the first days after John was bitten, Stiles can’t pinpoint the exact time because that week kind of blurs together. There were so many moments that had Stiles sick to his stomach, mostly he remembers blood, so much blood, and his dad not waking up and Derek not knowing why. He remembers telling his dad what happened and John refusing to believe him. They argued and yelled, and at some point they brought John to a mirror and Derek glared red eyes at him and commanded his wolf to the surface. John was frozen in shock at the deformed face staring back at him, and Stiles was equally paralyzed, the hand over his mouth not enough to keep the screaming in. John pushed them away, chased them out of the bathroom and locked himself in for hours. When Stiles asked Derek what emotions he could sense from the sheriff, Derek just shook his head and looked away.

Stiles hates that he’d been just another human reminding Derek he was a monster and that all he was good for was the bite. He’d used Derek, just like his other ex-partners and it’s been another icicle of guilt around Stiles’ heart. 

Derek’s been fucking amazing through it all, mostly patient and determined to be a real Alpha for John. Case in point, this exercise to teach John to listen to his wolf.

“It took Scott years to truly accept who he is.” Stiles says into the cold.

Derek reaches into a bag, pulls out a thermos, “Your dad’s gonna need that too, probably longer than Scott. Being bitten means always learning, and the wolf will always struggle for power in a way it doesn’t with born ones. It’s an undeniable part of born wolves, we _are_ our wolves too. With bitten ones, it’s a much harder fight to stay in control, to understand that the wolf is separate, yet still a part of your identity.”

“But there can be a good relationship between the two.” Stiles accepts a plastic cup of warm chocolate poured from the thermos. 

“Of course. And knowing your dad, he’ll get there. Eventually.”

“Yeah. Eventually.”

“That’s why you’re staying in Beacon Hills, right?” Derek asks, “For your dad. To help him with all this.”

Stiles notes how Derek’s anxiety about Stiles potentially leaving Beacon Hills matches his father’s, and how they’re both pretty unsubtle about it. “Well, yeah. There’s no way I’m leaving him alone with this. It was bad enough trying to control his diet from afar, controlling his wolf? Pfft.”

Derek grins, “How is his diet these days?”

Stiles grumbles and angrily drinks his chocolate, cursing a sniggering Derek. In the top three reasons why having a werewolf for a dad sucks, there’s also the fact that John can now eat meat to his heart’s content, because his heart is strong and his body in perfect shape and Stiles doesn’t have to worry about death by high cholesterol anymore. Which sucks because for years that’s been his way of handling his stress about his dad being the sheriff, and because it’s made John’s life hell for nearly a decade which was always good for a laugh. 

Now John makes Stiles’ life hell by gleefully eating burgers and bacon at every opportunity. At least he’s toned it down in public, after a waitress mentioned how fit he’s become despite his change in diet. Not wanting to arouse suspicions, John now eats somewhat healthily in public, and makes a point to be seen working out sometimes, mostly through morning jogs. He really works out by lifting rocks and going the odd round against Derek or Liam. It warms Stiles’ heart how upset John is that he gets his ass handed to him on a regular basis, and how pleased Derek is that he can knock John down.

John finds Melissa first, and Scott gripes about it the whole way home.

**

They thought of calling Scott and Melissa a few hours after Derek bit John. Scott was livid, shouting at them both, but in the end he agreed that keeping John alive was the most important thing and even went to get Derek a new set of clothes from his apartment. Melissa cleaned John’s wounds up as best she could, and gave them instructions on what to look out for. She couldn’t give them a medical explanation as to why the wounds were taking so long to heal, and Deaton more or less reiterated what Derek had said, that it was rare to turn someone of John’s age, and his body might take longer to accept the bite, if in fact it was accepting it. 

Scott was weird about it at first, and he and Derek still have some less-than-great moments between them. But Stiles thinks Scott’s relieved not to be the sheriff’s Alpha, that he’s realized how bad he would be at teaching him how to track, how to fight, how to keep control of his temper. Scott would just smile and say ‘good job’ at John, stuck at the age of eight and wanting Stiles’ dad to let them play together a little longer. 

“You wouldn’t know if Scott’s got any reason to be preoccupied, would you?” John asks once they’ve come home from the exercise in the preserve.

Stiles looks up from making himself a late night ham sandwich, “Huh?”

“Just this…vibe I got off him.” John frowns. Deciphering people’s emotions based on scent is probably John’s weakest skill, besides controlling his wolf around the time of the full moon. “Like he was worried, or nervous about something. No, not nervous but… apprehensive is a good word for it.”

“Can’t think of anything.” Stiles says, because he can’t, and even if he did, he wouldn’t sell Scott out. He should talk to Derek about teaching John to respect people’s privacy despite their emotional leakage.

“He was… looking at Derek a lot tonight.” John says it cautiously.

“He’s not going to challenge Derek to an Alpha duel.” Stiles rolls his eyes, going back to buttering his sandwich.

John hums, pulls out his own two slices of bread, “I think he was more worried _for_ Derek.”

“Oh my God,” Stiles half mutters, “You’re worried about Derek, just say so. But what you really should worry about is your lack of subtlety.”

John hums and reaches for the butter.

**

Stiles gets that the others worry about Derek, but he’d like some goddamn breathing space sometimes. Don’t they know he worries about Derek too? Stiles is a worrier, it’s what he does. After they broke up, he spent the better part of a year worrying that he’d fucked up Derek for good, that his own needs had pushed Derek into an abyss of self-hatred he’d never return from. 

When he thinks about how he acted the last six months they were together, he feels ashamed. He picked a lot of fights, testing Derek’s boundaries. He’s not entirely sure why he was such an asshole, not accepting that Derek’s previous relationships had left him lost and confused and always wanting to avoid conflicts with the person he was in love with. Stiles didn’t want fights, but he did want someone who would fight him when he was making bad decisions. But Derek just kept backtracking, at one memorable point buying three brands of cereal because Stiles couldn’t pick one. 

Derek might be older, but his life from sixteen to twenty-six did a real number on him and his emotional and mental state wasn’t a good match for where Stiles’ head was at at that point, Stiles knows that from seeing a shrink for a year in San Francisco. He fudged some of the details, but didn’t lie about Derek’s horrible exes, or his own treatment of him. The shrink said Stiles was probably looking for a way out of the life he was living at that point and used Derek because he was an easy punching bag.

Stiles felt nauseous for days after that particular appointment. 

He doesn’t know if Derek’s been to therapy in the years since they broke up, but he’s obviously done some work on his own well-being. He’s gained confidence and even carries himself differently, prouder. Maybe one day Stiles will be able to ask Derek about it.

**

“You seem off.” Derek says. 

Stiles twirls his drinking straw, taken from a package Stiles swears he remembers Derek buying back when they were a couple and Derek did sweet things like buying his boyfriend rainbow-colored straws because it made drinking more fun. Derek might be living in a new apartment, but the straws definitely made the move with him.

“I found a place.” Stiles says, “To live.”

“Oh. Where?”

“Down on Elwood Street. It’s only a two-room but the living room comes with an alcove I can use as an office, and there’s a tiny balcony.”

“When do you move?”

“End of the month.” Stiles says. He grins, “You gonna help me carry my shit?”

Derek rolls his eyes, “Only good for my muscles.”

“You know it, baby.” Stiles smarms, and the word is hard to take back when it’s just the two of them with a baseball game on the TV.

Derek doesn’t even flinch this time.

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to…” Stiles starts.

“To?” Derek prompts when Stiles doesn’t finish his line of thought.

“Uh, apologize.”

Derek tenses, unreasonably interested in the upcoming game schedule flashing on the screen.

“For a lot of things.” Stiles powers on, “But mostly for being a dipshit when we were together.”

Derek is very, very quiet. Stiles isn’t even sure Derek’s even breathing right now. Nor is he sure why he’s bringing this up now.

“I was an asshole, and it was never, ever, your fault. I was young and dumb and took it out on you. I want you to know that it wasn’t you, and I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like it was.” Stiles fights to keep his voice clear and unwavering, his eyes on Derek. When he’s said his piece he feels exhausted. 

Derek keeps staring at the TV, but there’s a strange movement in his jaw, that Stiles recognizes from before. Derek is shifting his teeth from human to werewolf, a tick he has when his emotions threaten to overwhelm him and he forces himself to hold back.

The game cuts to a commercial, again, and the volume increases slightly. Derek doesn’t say anything, and it makes Stiles fidget. He remembers to keep quiet and let Derek find his words, but the minutes tick by without Derek saying anything.

When the game is back on, Stiles can’t hold it in any longer, “Say something.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Anything!” Stiles says, hands flying into the air, “Say thanks! Yell at me! Be mad, or tell me it’s water under the bridge! I don’t care, just… _say something_!”

Derek finally turns to look at him, “Thanks? I’m supposed to thank you for an apology that’s five years late?”

“Of course not! You’re supposed to get mad at me! Could you for once not let me get away with shit!” Stiles pretty much has his finger in Derek’s face now, and this is not what was supposed to happen, but it’s like they time-travelled five years and Stiles is picking fights for no real reason other than to get Derek to show some emotion, any emotion. 

Derek frowns, “I don’t know what you want.” He sounds frustrated, the words forced.

Back then, Stiles wanted Derek to use his words and tell him what was going on between them, what they were, and what Stiles meant to him. Derek never did, it was all implied. The touches, the actions, what words he did use, they were all just glimpses of what could be, of what would be once they’d settled down into themselves, once they’d found a calm in the storm. It was all there for Stiles to take, but he wanted it to be outspoken, to be promised aloud and he went about it the completely wrong fucking way and ruined everything they had and everything they could have had.

He’s not certain what he wants now. He sighs, burrowing down into the sofa, “I want you to know I’m aware I’m an asshole, and that I’m sorry. Probably added another year of you being anti-social, huh?”

Derek moves so that he’s resting against the arm of the sofa, “You leaving probably made me deal with all that sooner, actually.”

“I didn’t leave you, I left Beacon Hills.” 

Derek raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Yeah, alright.” Stiles concedes. He did leave Derek, hastily and cowardly.

They’re quiet for a moment, watching the random audience members highlighted on the TV. At least it’s not the kiss cam. “I figured, if even you couldn’t stand me, maybe I should start thinking about things.” Derek says.

“It was _never_ you.” Stiles insists.

“I know.”

**

Stiles avoids Derek for a week or so after that. John keeps saying it’ll be good to not have Stiles’ body stench around once he moves and Stiles rolls his eyes. The full moon comes, and John is antsy. Stiles follows Derek’s texted orders and stays at the McCall house for the night, while Derek and Scott help John through the shift at Casa Stilinski.

Melissa makes tortillas and they watch some stupid movie about a career woman inheriting a pumpkin farm and finding love in a little country town. They throw popcorn at the screen at every obvious plot twist. 

“He’ll be fine.” Melissa says, squeezing Stiles’ shoulder as they say goodnight. 

A text comes through around two o’clock from Derek, _Better than last month. He’s out for the count. Hope you’re ok._

Stiles hesitates, he could pretend to be asleep. But Derek will know that Stiles has waited for the report and that he wouldn’t be able to sleep before it arrived. _Thx. You okay too?_

_ Yeah.  _

Stiles sends the next text before he can talk himself out of it. _Are we okay?_

_ We’re fine. Meet at Stella’s for breakfast? _

_ See you there at eight. _

Stiles officially works in internet security, and unofficially as a trader in supernatural scripture. He’s never been more pleased to dictate his own hours.

**

Stiles is disappointed to hear they’d had to lock John into the basement with Derek there to fight and calm him when needed. John just can’t seem to get along with his wolf. 

“We’ll take him for a run tonight, let his wolf loose, that should settle him.” Derek informs Stiles over eggs and coffee.

“So what you’re saying is he still can’t control himself on the actual full moon.” Stiles purses his lips, “Maybe I should live at the house a little longer. Who knows what kind of help he’ll need.”

“You can’t be there for full moons, not yet.” Derek insists. He’s said it from the start, since John woke up and they finally knew the bite had been accepted by his body.

“Yeah, but there are other times when control slips.” Stiles nods pointedly at Derek who just makes a ‘who, me?’ face that makes Stiles laugh. 

“You moving might settle things for him a little, actually. He’s been worried about you going back to San Francisco, and maybe the wolf won’t like his pack moving out, but he’ll be content you’re staying near, and not moving hours away.” 

Stiles cocks his head, “You really think he’s worried that much?”

“Yeah.” Derek says quietly, avoiding Stiles’ eyes. 

“That means you’re definitely helping me carrying my shit next week, right?” Stiles decides to distract them from Derek more or less admitting he’s happy Stiles is staying in town, and Derek jumps at the chance, telling him they are renting a moving truck and that Roscoe is not going to be their primary mode of transportation. Stiles hates that Derek can probably tell how happy it makes him to hear Derek refer to his beloved Jeep as ‘Roscoe’. 

**

Stiles begged and cried for Derek to bite his dad. He could tell that Derek was hesitant, and it made him panic, pleading with him to save his dad’s life. Derek did, and they spent days uncertain of John’s recovery, and of each other. 

It wasn’t a robber or a car crash, or any of the five thousand scenarios Stiles had thought of when he worked himself up about losing his dad. It was a fucking garden rake. 

Derek was at the house when Stiles arrived a day early for his birthday visit, wanting to surprise his old man. The usual awkwardness was there as Derek explained he’d just been helping with some work on the roof, then Derek left, and John missed a step coming up the porch and fell over, back onto a garden rake that pierced his upper chest and throat. Stiles screamed and kneeled by his dad’s side, pressing at the needles, and his hands were covered in blood instantly.

He knows now that Derek heard the scream and ran like a man possessed back to the house, there in a matter of seconds. When Stiles registered that Derek was there, he began begging him to save his dad. They could both tell that with the blood loss, it was a matter of moments. Derek looked so scared, and so sad, but he shifted his face and bit down hard, not letting go for almost a full minute. Stiles will always remember the sight of Derek with John’s blood all over his face, looking every bit the monster Stiles had never thought he was. Later, once they’d gotten John upstairs and into his bed, Derek’s face shifted back into its human form, and it made Stiles flinch to see the blood coloring his beard dark. 

Derek looked so hurt at Stiles’ flinch, prompting the first flash of guilt that Stiles felt about asking Derek to bite John. In the past year, the flashes have become episodes of over-powering shame and guilt-ridden dreams and he’s been so worried Derek would be lost to them all forever, but Stiles will never, ever, be ashamed he chose his father over everything else. 

**

Derek does help carry what few boxes Stiles has into his new apartment, as do Scott, Liam, Mason and the sheriff. Stiles has had some furniture stored in his dad’s garage, but all in all it doesn’t take more than six hours to move everything into his new apartment. Stiles makes sure that he himself carries the moving box that his green plastic ‘Derek box’ is hidden in, placing it in the tiny closet that’s off the side of the bedroom. He convinces himself any smells that were once tied to the items in the box are long gone, and that none of the wolves can smell what’s being hurried past them in plain sight.

John bows out after the first pizza is demolished and the Xbox has been set up. They share a manly hug by Stiles’ front door but since John’s already promised to come by the next day with the stuff Stiles has forgotten, like the things in the fridge that only Stiles eats, they don’t get too emotional. John buries his nose in Stiles’ neck and squeezes his shoulder one last time before he leaves. 

“Holy shit, my dad just scent marked me.” Stiles says once he’s closed the door. None of the others really react, but when he sits down next to Derek, the other man runs his fingers lightly over the same shoulder John had squeezed, and a few minutes later Derek’s oh-so-subtly leaned closer and is sniffing the air near Stiles. If Stiles wasn’t used to werewolves and their complex relationship with scents, he’d be offended. 

“It’s good. He’s going with his werewolf instincts.” Derek says later, when Stiles mentions the scent marking again because he sometimes brings up things he should be mature enough to let lie. 

“I started scent marking before I even know how to howl.” Liam says from his spot on the floor.

“You still don’t know how to howl.” Scott teases.

Stiles knows exactly what’s about to happen, and does not want his landlord to evict him before he’s even spent a night in the place so he holds a hand out, “No howling! There will be no rumors of the weirdo in 3A who keeps wolves for pets, or watches scary movies at any given moment.” 

“Will there be rumors about the hours that he keeps?” Derek deadpans.

“Or the shady people he knows?” Mason grins.

Scott frowns, “I’m not shady people.”

“Derek is.” Liam shrugs.

“He was never charged with anything, my God, how long is that gonna keep coming up?” Stiles gripes, mostly joking, but knowing that one is his fault too. “What my neighbors will know is that the sheriff’s son is reliable with rent and adorable while holding the front door open and helping carry groceries.”

“We’ll work out how to best use the fire escape undetected at night.” Derek says, and Stiles has a brain freeze because he thinks Derek is making a joking reference to how they’ve all come in through Stiles’ window at all hours of the night, but he might also be completely serious, because they’re all likely to at some point enter the new apartment through the kitchen window, and probably at night.

He doesn’t have a chance to ask though, because Derek gets off the couch to use the bathroom. He doesn’t return for some time, taking his time walking through the tiny apartment even though there’s not really anything to look at yet. Stiles doesn’t think he’ll do anything much decoration-wise, just hang some posters and photos.

They play Mario Kart for an hour or so more, then the others leave Stiles to unpack clothes and random household items on his own. Scott and Liam both graze their hands over Stiles’ shoulder, but Derek takes hold of his hand, rubbing his thumb over Stiles’ knuckles before pulling him in for a quick hug. 

Stiles wakes up in the middle of the night, realizing Derek was scent marking the apartment, and he groans into his pillow. They really need to get their shit together.

**

The next day, John wrinkles his nose a few times as he helps Stiles put up lamps, move the bed around because the sun got into his eyes that morning, and assemble a book case his dad just happened to purchase on the way over. 

“Did it smell like this yesterday?” John asks. 

“Derek.” Stiles says by way of explanation. 

John nearly drops the hammer he’s holding, “He stayed?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says before realizing what his father means, “no, not like that! He stayed with the others, played some Mario Kart before they all left. Jeez.”

John frowns, “Still smells a lot like him in here. Considering he was only here a few hours.”

Stiles can’t really look at his dad as he says, “He’s your Alpha, you’ll always think his scent is strong. Besides, he went around scent marking things.”

“Scent marking?”

“You did it too. Yesterday, when you left? You put your scent on me. I haven’t noticed it before, but back at the house our scents are pretty much saturating everything, so maybe your wolf hasn’t been too worried about it.” Stiles taps his fingers to his cheek, “Maybe you’ll feel a need to come over and fix things for me all the time. Leave your mark on the place, not just your scent.”

John stares at Stiles like he wants be anywhere than having this conversation. “I guess it, I mean that _I_ like having things smell a certain way.” John still refers to the wolf as something apart from himself most of the time.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, dad. It’s typical werewolf behavior, you all do it. You’ll prefer having your pack’s scent around you, in your home, things like that. You should talk to Derek about it. None of us find it weird, well, not anymore.”

John just shrugs, but Stiles doesn’t like the thought that John is still struggling with being a werewolf, because he’s alive and they should all be happy. He walks over and places a hand on his dad’s shoulder, “You can scent mark this place all you want. Stilinski pack first, right?”

His dad mutters something under his breath, but Stiles can tell he’s eased up a little. He pretends to not notice John walk a circle or two around the apartment before leaving.

**

Derek comes by a few days later, carrying a cactus and Thai food, and Stiles falls a little bit in love. He stifles a laugh at Derek touching pretty much everything in the kitchen, just shrugs when Derek raises a questioning eyebrow at him. Derek’s real reason for being there is to compare notes on some animal deaths in the preserve that doesn’t feel natural to any of the pack, but instead of the clipped conversations and barely shared information of yesteryear, they’re going off on tangents and trying to remember Eastern European folktales together, while munching on red curry chicken. 

It’s nice, and everything Stiles wanted their relationship to be like. It’s what he saw them doing, solving supernatural cases together well into the night, takeout boxes on the sofa table and shoes haphazardly kicked off on the floor.

Stiles forgets himself halfway into the second beer of the night, pulling Derek in for a kiss when he’s put a rudimentary drawing of a ghoul up on the board. Derek only hesitates for a brief second, then he’s kissing Stiles back, steadily and sure. 

“Sorry.” Stiles breathes out quietly once they part.

“Don’t be.” Derek’s grip on Stiles’ waist tightens, and Stiles wants so badly. He wants Derek, he wants his body, and his comfort. Derek looks straight into Stiles’ eyes with so much hope that it’s almost overwhelming. Stiles more or less falls back down on the couch from the weight of it all, Derek following him on account of still holding Stiles. Derek keeps their eyes locked as he leans in, like he’s daring Stiles to stop him, or maybe he’s begging him to let them have this. 

Derek kisses him, softly and unhurried. It’s new, yet familiar. They rarely shared these kinds of kisses before, back then the kisses were always hungry and fast, a first step on the road to quick release. They’d barely gotten the hang of kissing each other hello and goodbye. This kiss, with Derek’s hand caressing his neck, his lips warm and pliant against Stiles’, slows time down just a little bit and feels better than all the getting-back-together-kisses that Stiles has imagined in the past month. 

Even when Stiles slides his tongue over Derek’s lips, and Derek opens for him, it doesn’t turn into anything more than simply affectionate. Derek turns into Stiles’ body, pressing him back into the couch, and Stiles is ready and willing when Derek goes for his neck, holding Derek’s head in place as he licks and kisses Stiles’ throat. Stiles’ dick is hard but he’s pretty good at ignoring it. 

They end up holding hands, mysterious animal deaths completely forgotten, the food too. Stiles doesn’t see the point in pretending he doesn’t know that Derek’s wanted this for a long time, longer than Stiles has been ready for it. But he also doesn’t want Derek to accept anything less than he deserves, and he doesn’t want him to think he doesn’t deserve the best. Any partner of Derek’s should be honest, loyal and caring, Stiles is absolutely adamant of that since their last go-around when Stiles failed at all three. Stiles isn’t too sure how he’ll cope with the pressure of treating Derek right, but he’ll figure out a way, if given the chance again.

“If we’re gonna… If we’re gonna be something, then I need to say this, okay?” Stiles says, looking at where he’s pressing Derek’s fingertips, Derek gamely letting his wolf claws out. “And if at the end of it you don’t want to be with me, that’s fine.”

“Okay.” Derek says, and Stiles believes him, believes that Derek knows that what Stiles says will make or break them. 

“I also think that you need to hear it, whether you know it or not.” Stiles lets go of Derek’s hands, tries to get his thoughts in order. “I had no right to ask you to bite dad. It was so shitty of me, and it put pressure on you, and still does, and it was probably the worst thing I ever could’ve done to you.”

Derek fidgets with his hands, which is a rare sight.

“You said once that the bite is a gift, and to me, it’s the best gift anyone ever could’ve given me, my dad alive and well, eating red meat again.”

“That really bothers you, huh?” Derek grins.

“After all the time I put in!” Stiles meets Derek’s eyes for a brief second, takes note that he’s back to looking hopeful. “I hate that I pretty much forced you to do it. It should’ve been your decision. You’re the one stuck being Alpha to him.”

“It’s not so bad.” Derek shrugs, settling back against the arm of the couch. “He’s made more progress than you think.”

“Any progress is thanks to you being a great Alpha when you wanna be. My point,” Stiles stresses because he has one, even if it’s longwinded, “is that you don’t get to feel sorry you bit him, or ashamed of yourself. Because I know you keep thinking dad’s mad at you for it, or that you’re not teaching him the things you should, but the whole fucking point is that you’re the fucking hero in this story.”

Derek swallows, “It’s not that I didn’t want to help, or wouldn’t give him the bite.” He takes a deep breath, “You were so desperate, and so scared. I could never say no to you, and then this happens.”

Stiles reaches for Derek’s hand, his fingers instantly crushed by Derek’s grip, “I know.”

“I wasn’t gonna let him go through the change alone, and I wasn’t gonna leave him hanging afterward neither. So yeah, I took the words and looks from you both, ‘cos it would’ve been way worse leaving you alone. I was a little messed up for a while,” Derek says, “but I know that you’re both grateful.”

“We’re more than grateful,” Stiles says, finally daring to catch Derek’s eyes, “We are forever indebted to you. We’ve been shit to you sometimes this year, but we are so fucking thankful.”

“Sometimes I wondered if you hated me for turning him, making him rely on me. The way you looked at me that day…”

“Sometimes I did hate you.” Stiles answers, because he has to be honest with Derek about this. “I hate that it’s messed my dad up, that he wasn’t himself for months and that I couldn’t help him like you could. But come on man, you know that’s not how I really feel, or that it’s something that changes how I feel about you.”

Derek’s hold on his hand loosens slightly, “How do you feel about me?”

And that’s it. That’s what they’re doing here. Clearing the air before any declarations are made.

“I’ve always been in love with you. That hasn’t changed.” Stiles says. “I guess I’m just finally at a point where I think I won’t hurt you.”

“So you won’t turn me away, like you’ve done all year? Or leave me, like you did then?”

Stiles shifts on the couch, sitting as close to Derek as humanly possible, “I get that you don’t know if you can trust me. That’s okay, I can work on that. But I am done hurting you, and I am done hiding. I want you, and we can do this however you need us to do this.”

“This isn’t just ‘cos I’m your hero?” Derek asks. 

Stiles snorts, “No, it’s ‘cos of your muscles, haven’t you been paying attention?”

“There’s never been anyone but you.” Derek whispers, leaning in to kiss Stiles’ lips. 

Stiles puts a hand on Derek’s chest, “Excuse you, there have been plenty of others beside me.”

Derek groans, “Okay, no one has ever infuriated me quite like you do. Or made me as hard as you do. Or made me think about a future.”

“Oh.” Stiles moves his hand to Derek’s lap. “Well, when you put it like that.”

**

Derek spends the night of the next full moon with Stiles. 

“Your dad will most likely be pacing tonight, now that you’re not at the house. But he has to learn. He can’t keep scheduling time off every month, or be a threat to innocent bystanders.”

“Sometimes I wonder if he even likes being a wolf.” Stiles sighs. He feels antsy, like he’s the one about to shift.

“He doesn’t.” Derek states without hesitation.

Stiles bites his lip.

“You realize, of course, that I’m breaking the sacred confidentiality trust between Alpha and Beta, but we’ve talked a lot about it, what it means to be a wolf, and the instincts he’ll experience.”

“Oh yes, that trust.” Stiles plays along.

“He told me he’ll suffer through any training for you, to make sure he gets more time with you. So don’t ever doubt you made the right decision.”

Stiles acknowledges the metaphorical shoulder squeeze with a nod. He looks back outside. He’s pretty sure that tonight will be the night his neighbors decide he has sketchy friends that make too much noise, expecting his father to come wolfed out up the fire escape. Derek claims that this moon is perfect for stepping things up with John’s control, challenging him to find his anchor quicker. Stiles isn’t entirely sure that’s true, but Scott is with John at the house and Derek is here in case John loses his shit and comes looking for his son. 

Stiles wonders what his dad’s anchor is. If it’s Stiles. If it’s his love for Claudia. 

“Am I still your anchor?” Stiles asks. 

Derek hesitates, making Stiles turn to face him. He’s sitting on the couch, looking a little bewildered. “Uh, yeah. I mean, the whole pack is. But you more than the others. In a different way.”

Stiles crosses over, sits sideways next to Derek, invading his personal space. “Okay, that’s good, takes some of the pressure off if I’m dad’s anchor too. Heh, Anchor Stiles. The Anchorman! Great Scott, I really am The Anchorman!”

“What’s Scott got to do with this?” Derek frowns.

Stiles ignores Derek’s pop-culture confusion, “I will henceforth be known as Stiles Burgundy.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“I’m talking about anchors, Derek! It’d be weird if I had to choose between being your anchor and my dad’s, you know, in case I am his. Does he have an anchor yet? Has he told you? I should ask him.”

Derek’s looking at Stiles with a perplexed but fond expression, “I’m pretty sure you’re in the mix. I had to use the trinket with him.”

Stiles laughs, “You gave him some piece of crap to focus on?”

“It helped.” Derek defends, but Stiles barely cares as he dissolves into giggles, slapping Derek’s shoulder and shoving his head into Derek’s arm.

“Oh man, he’ll be so pissed when he finds out.” Stiles says, pulling back. He realizes something else that John might find out soon. “So… how much of any sexual activity will my dad be able to smell on me?”

Derek cringes, “Uh, all? Depending on how shortly afterwards he’s within scenting distance.”

”Damn it.” Stiles mutters, running a hand over his face. 

Derek looks pained as he soldiers on, “It would be, ah, particularly strong if it was his Alpha that you…” 

“Oh God. Of course it would be.” 

“On the other hand,” Derek tries to act confident, which Stiles does not buy at all considering what they’re talking about, “his wolf might respond positively to his Alpha taking care of his cub.”

“That is fucked up on an intergalactic scale.” Stiles says, awed by the horror of it all. “So what you’re saying is that he knows both our scents so well, he won’t miss it if our scents mix, so there’s no chance of us doing this in peace, but his wolf will approve of it, which might make him less likely to complain about our scents mixing.”

Derek’s eyes track back and forth while Stiles speaks, like he’s following a tennis match, and at the end he pauses for short moment before nodding. “Something like that. You want to not tell him about us?”

Stiles leans over to take Derek’s hand, “Just at first. While we get things settled.”

Derek nods, a small smile on his lips. “It’s a good thing you got your own apartment, then.”

“Yeah, a very good thing.” Stiles grins, moving around to settle on Derek’s lap.

**

John’s outside the apartment two days later, and he wrinkles his nose the moment Stiles opens the door. “Why’s it smell so much of Derek in here?”

Stiles groans and curses. Having a werewolf for a dad well and truly sucks.

**Author's Note:**

> OMG. It is done. My first ever Sterek fic! Wow! I've been painstakingly working on this for the better part of a year, and it has undergone a number of transformations and editing attempts. I'm finally at a point where I think it's time to share, or forever hold my peace. I'm so happy I gave Sterek a go, and I think I found my own handle on their voices, and maybe even an interesting storyline. I gotta say, I loved the idea of making the sheriff a werewolf, it was what kept me going through this horrible process, and of course the eternal love that is Sterek. Hopefully there'll be other Sterek stories in the future!


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